Hidden In Plain Sight
by NotWhoYouThinkThisIs
Summary: You can take Sirius out of the Blacks, but you can’t always take the Black out of Sirius. All four of them can see that, because none of them are blind. MWPP drabble.


**Author's Note:**

**Justin:** good lord, it's been forever!!

**Tequila:** SORRY!! --it's all justin's fault--

**Justin:** evil real world... well... just to ease us back into things--

**Tequila:** SIRIUS:D

**Disclaimer: **oddly enough... last time we checked... J.K.R. still owned Harry Potter. dang. maybe we should double-check?

Hidden In Plain Sight

Peter sees it in the way Sirius's body moves, his shoulders hunching every time someone mentions their dad, especially when Prongs—with typical lack of tact—goes on and on about Mr. Potter and his job at the Ministry. Sometimes Sirius flees, goes and sits in a stairwell and doesn't say anything to anyone, and most of the time Peter follows, and sits with him and is quiet. Peter is good at quiet. But sometimes, without prompting, Sirius will mutter something about his father and Peter understands, with a bone deep knowledge, just what it's like to always be a disappointment and to, after a certain point, try to disappoint on purpose just to get it sodding _over with_.

Peter sees it sometimes in the way that Sirius twists the ring he got in Fifth Year to replace the Black signet, and the way his eyes get a little wide and a little empty when Remus passes around sweets his mum has sent from home, with messages of love written onto the wrappers. Peter's no idiot, and he never dares mention it, but he sees the way those grey eyes light up a little too bright whenever a Professor praises his irregular brilliance, before he laughs it off. And Peter understands, just a bit, why Sirius does some of it, because there are two ways to fight back—to be invisible, and to be more visible than anyone else. And as Peter fades into the shadows and watches Sirius indulge himself in the spotlight, he wonders a bit wistfully how it's working for the other boy. Because no matter what you do, the truth is still obvious to anyone who can see.

Remus sees it in the fact that Sirius understands a bit too well what the bruises are like, after the full moon, and mentions a bit too casually the tips like sleeping with a pillow tucked next to you so you won't roll over onto a cut in your sleep. Sure, he gets hurt a lot, but something about his eyes when he off-handedly mentions that he 'knows how to brew a Numbing Potion, has some in his trunk, actually'—and Sirius _hates _Potions, hates it with a passion—and mutters that 'you can get dittany pretty much anywhere, good for the small injuries, you know?' speaks to the young werewolf of the kind of injuries that don't come from rough play.

Remus had good eyes, and he sees the way Sirius always tucks into the Feast on the first night, the way the midnight snacks taper off after a month or so at the Castle, the way Sirius's outlines kind of fill in again mid-October. Remus has good hearing, and he hears the little whimpering whines that come from the bed across the tower when there's a thunderstorm. Remus has a better than average sense of smell, a 'gift' of his furry condition, and he recognizes all too well the scent of dried blood on the first day after Christmas Holidays. And Remus can almost taste on the back of his tongue the way Sirius winces (imperceptibly to anyone else, but a wolf can tell when someone is rolling over and showing their belly, even when it's done with a duck of the head and a twitch of the fingers) whenever a grown-up, when ever a _man_, raises their hand quickly. And Remus has a good head on his shoulders, and so he knows never to mention anything, but to hug Padfoot just a bit harder when he thinks he can get away with it. But that isn't terribly often, and sometimes he wonders if he's the only one who notices any of this—when it all seems so obvious to anyone who can see.

James sees it in the imprints that Sirius has never really managed to shake off—tiny things, really, but no matter how many people have called James Potter moronic, no one's called him dumb. Sirius is a master of vulgarity, slurring his words and mashing them about in his mouth, scrawling out words in shorthand, shoveling food in like it's going out of style, slumping and snorting and talking with a mouth full more often than not… when he's thinking about it. But James sees the shadow that never really leaves in the impeccable manners and copperplate handwriting and perfectly clipped vowels that appear like, well, magic whenever Sirius is worried or exhausted or not thinking hard enough to stop himself. He sees it in the fact that Sirius always sits perfectly straight and chews with his mouth closed on the days after a full moon.

James sees the things that Wormtail and Remus do as well, sees their seeing of it in their eyes and the shadows that track Sirius across a room. And James can shut up, sometimes, when he needs to, and he knows when to not say anything, and when to distract his best mate, and when to just reach over and touch him on the arm, gently. And one day, at the end of the summer of 1975, when there comes a rapping on his window in the middle of the night, he realizes he was almost expecting it, somehow. And when people realize that Sirius is living with the Potters now, they sometimes look a little surprised—and James wonders how they can be so blind, when the truth is obvious to anyone who can see.

Sirius sees it every time he looks in the mirror and his mother stares back out at him, every time he catches his own eyes across the hall in a young Slytherin boy's face, every time his own hair being brushed casually back out of his way reminds him of his cousin. He sees it whenever his instinctive response to being balked or irked is disproportional, whenever he flies into one of his famous rages and sees his family staring back at him through his own reflection in the eyes of those who watch. He sees it when his response to a casual cruelty is an even more casual dismissal, when he catches Prongs or Moony looking at him with wide-eyed disappointment and disapproval.

Sirius can see more than people give him credit for, and he knows that, in the end, there are some sins of the fathers that the sons cannot atone for, try though they might. No matter what he does, or who he supports, or which House he was Sorted into, there are some things he will never escape. Because he's always a Black, no matter what he does, no matter who he is, because some things are written soul deep and there's no escaping them, no matter what you try. Some things are bred into the bone, and they are clearly, painfully visible to anyone who can see. And that's why Sirius keeps his eyes closed.


End file.
